Secret Past
by Jenn2
Summary: AU: Maria left with her father when she was seven. Now she is back ten years later. She carries a dark secret, and only Michael is able to set her past free. This story contains aspects of life, such as child abuse and prostitution, that may be uncomfo
1. Coming Home

I watched the people in the small airport wishing I could be anywhere but there. I didn't want to be back in Roswell, a place I hadn't been for nine years, since I was seven years old. My father had taken me to NYC when he left my mother. But now my father was dead, gone, and I had to face the strange, yet familiar place on my own.  
  
I looked for my mother, she was supposed to be picking me up. I wasn't sure how my mother would react to me. We hadn't really talked during my absence. There had been a few phone cards, a card or two. But my father had tried his best to sever all ties he had with Roswell, forcing me to do the same. Being young I had agreed, and as I grew older, I just forgot.  
  
"Maria," someone called. "Maria, over here." I turned to see a tall brunette standing on a bench. Next to her on the ground, was a tall male. I walked towards them and the girl jumped down.  
  
"Lizzie," I said, looking at the girl closely. She had been My best friend when we were little, but had lost touch with her when I left. "Lizzie, how are you?"  
  
"Good, good," she said. I motioned to the guy. "This is Max."  
  
The boy looked vaguely familiar. I squinted at him. "Evans?" I asked. I remembered him. He had moved in a year before I left. A quite boy, always shy, kept to himself. He had a sister and some messy little spikehead boy he had clung to.  
  
I looked at Liz questioning her. "I'll tell you about it later," she mouthed as Max moved to take My bags.   
  
"Where's my mom?"  
  
"At a convention, she still works with all that alien stuff," Liz answered. "You're supposed to meet her at like four o'clock. I figured maybe you and I could go by the Crashdown for some lunch, then I'll take you back to her place."  
  
"Sounds good," I said. I followed Liz out of the building. I didn't understand how we could be friends so quickly after all these years. But it seemed easy. I hadn't had many friends in New York, and never one like Liz. I had missed her.  
~~~~~~~~  
"What's the story with the Evans boy?" I asked when Liz and me were finally alone. We sat in the back room of the Crashdown, which looked exactly the same. I remembered when me and Liz had run through the same room, pigtails flying, chasing each other, laughing. That was so long ago.  
  
"Oh, him," Liz sighed.  
  
"Yes him. How could you forget? He's attached to you, like an extra limb."  
  
"Yeah, well, we've been through a lot," Liz said. I felt like I ahd missed out on so much. I had, nine years was a long time not to talk to someone. Liz must have sensed my feelings, "But we have time. First, though, you have to tell me about New York. It's probably ten times more exciting than Roswell, NM."  
  
"Um….well, I guess so," I hesitated.  
  
"Come on," Liz smiled.  
  
"It was great. But I'm glad to be back. The city was too big for me." A minute ago I was complaining about being in the damn town. But now, now it was different. I liked it here, you didn't get so lost. There weren't secrets, no dangers.   
  
"Sure," Liz rolled her eyes. "Whatever."  
  
"Really," I insisted.  
  
"You're hiding something." Leave it to Liz to catch on. Why did she have to be so sensitive? I didn't know what I should do. She would never understand the hell the last nine years had been. No, I would just keep it to myself, like I had always done. Besides, Liz was practically a stranger to me. well that wasn't true, but it was an easy excuse.  
  
"So you still have to tell me all about Max, and I have to meet my mom soon. " I looked at my watch. "We have an hour. I'll tell you about boring old me later. Max Evans; tall, dark, handsome, dish girl." I felt bad about being nosy, but I wanted to keep the conversation off of myself as much as I could. Liz looked more than happy to talk anyway.  



	2. Finding My Mother

Well the life of a teenager was never supposed to be easy, they were right. In Liz's car on the way to my mother's place I felt ready to throw up. I had missed her when I was little, cried for her every night. But daddy had disciplined me, yelling at me to stop my "silly tears" but he only made them worse. After a while I just forgot she existed, wonder if she had forgotten about me. Now she had me thrown onto her to take care of.  
  
I should have just emancipated myself. I'm old enough. in a year I could be on my own anyway. But I had always depended on someone, my father. I was afraid to be alone, but afraid to be attached. I was confused and scared and had no clue, but I was strong. My mother was my best bet.  
  
I breathed deep as I mounted the steps to the apartment building. She had to sell the house after Dad and I left, selling alien souvenirs was not enough to keep it up. I rang the buzzer and heard a woman answer. "Who is it?" She sounded old, tired.  
  
"Um….it's Maria," I answered.  
  
"One moment." This was definitely not the same lady she had left nine years previous. She had changed, I could tell without even looking at her. A moment later, true to her word, a woman appeared in front of her, standing in the doorway of the now open door. I had to keep my jaw from dropping at the sight before me. This was not my mother, my mother was young, pretty, the lady I used to cuddle with, the woman I used to love and admire. The one before me now was almost old looking, fine wrinkles outlined her mouth and forehead, her eyes dull and clouded.   
  
"Hello?" she said. It was obvious she had spoken already, but I had been engrossed in thought.   
  
"Hello," I replied, my eyes darting every which way, trying to avoid her face. It was strange standing here in front of her, nerve racking. But what did I expect, her to take me into her arms and forget time had ever gone by? Liz had.   
  
'Oh shut up,' I berated myself. Of course it wouldn't be the same. I closed my eyes and for a moment saw the mother I once had known, hugging me close while my father ripped apart the house. I saw the woman I had dreamt about every day of my life, the one I had called Mommy, the one who had protected me and kissed away my tears. I saw the mother I had been torn from one night in an angry rage. I saw a woman standing in the doorway, sobbing. I saw all the memories I had, the only ones I had been able to keep, the only piece of Roswell that had stayed with me. Maybe they would stop haunting me now that I was back. But then there was NYC…  
  
I felt a hand on my shoulder, shaking me from my daydream. "Maria, why don't you come inside?" my mother said. She had a funny look on her face. What a first impression I had made.   
  
I entered the building and followed my mother up the stairs to a small apartment. I was surprised at the inside; a small living room, scarcely furnished; a kitchen, well if you wanna call it that, a stove and a microwave, basically; and I could see a bedroom in the back; and another closed door. The rooms only made me pity her more, although I hadn't exactly lived like a princess.  
  
"Um…I know it's not Buckingham Palace…" Amy let her voice trail.  
  
"Don't worry," I replied, reassuring her. "It's great, very homey." And it was, little touches, like the candles and incense, lacy curtains, accented the tiny place, giving it a welcoming look. Silence fell on the place and I felt awkward. I wish I had made Liz come in with me, but I told her I would be okay. At this moment I felt anything but okay.   
  
'Suck it up,' I said to myself. 'You're not a child anymore.'  
  
"You must be tired," my mother said.   
  
"Well a little. It's been a long day." She moved towards the closed door and I followed, like a lost sheep. Since when had I become such a baby? I had always been the leader, the one in control. Maybe I was tired, who knew.  
  
"This will be your room," she said. I peeked my head inside. It was a gorgeous room, she must have fixed it up. "We can fix it however you want it…"  
  
"No, I like it," I said, still looking dreamily at the small space. Finally, a clean room, all for myself. I wandered in as my mother rattled on about towels and sheets or some sort of household stuff. I answered with the appropriate noises, I was good at that, listening without listening.   
  
Then she turned to leave, "Mom," I said unsure, my voice wavering. I was venturing into unknown territory, it was scary. My mother turned slowly, tears in her eyes.  
  
"I've been waiting almost ten years to hear you say that. I've missed you," she said, rushing towards me and enveloping me in a hug that could kill a bear.  
  
"I've missed you too," I siad, tears filling my eyes. "Everyday."  
  
"Welcome home, Maria," she said.  



	3. Work

I looked into the mirror and smiled. Roswell had turned out better than I though it would. It was like after nine years I finally had a home, a home I could remember. If only I could forget the past. No time for that now. I took one more quick look in the mirror and hurried out the door of my mother's apartment, smack into the next door neighbor.  
  
"Sorry," I mumbled squatting down to pick up my keys. The man just mumbled a quick, "that's ok," and walked into his apartment. I watched as he opened the door to his apartment and he glanced in my direction. I turned away and hurried down the stairs, out the door and into the car.  
  
I switched on the radio and tapped the rhythm, trying to get rid of the eerie feeling our neighbor gave me. It was like déjà vu or something. I shook my head, tossing it from side to side slowly and then quickly. 'It's just your imagination,' I thought.   
  
I pulled in front of my mother's store and hopped out. I was late, and it was only my first day, what an impression. I looked through the glass doors at Mom busily rummaging through boxes of alien crap of all types. Why didn't she just give it up? Well she did look cute among all the blow up dolls and plastic coffee stirrers. At least it was good business.  
  
Liz had asked me to work at the Crashdown with her but when I saw my mother's face as she asked me to work here I knew I couldn't let her down. I finally had a mother, I didn't want to blow it. So here I was, ready to start a new job.  
  
"I'm here," I said as I breezed in, causing my mom to look up from the box she was digging in and spill a bunch of pencils all over the store. I scrambled to help her pick them up.  
  
"You're late," she said as we grabbed for the still rolling pencils. Her voice was stern but there was a smile in her eyes.  
  
"Sorry, won't happen again boss," I said and she laughed. "I would have been here sooner but I ran into our neighbor on the way out."  
  
"Oh, you met Michael?" she said.  
  
"Well if you call practically tripping over him and then running out the door meeting, than yes." All the pencils had found their way back in the box and mom walked back to the storage room. I followed. "So what am I supposed to be doing?"  
  
"You make deliveries. So what did you think of Michael?"   
  
"What was I supposed to think, I didn't even see him," I laughed. "Now about this job, so I just deliver the stuff for you?"  
  
"Yeah. You didn't see him? Well that explains why you didn't come in here lovestruck. He's one cute kid, nice too."  
  
"Mooomm," I whined. She just wouldn't let up on the subject. "I'm sure I'll meet him someday. He does live in the same building." I started helping her stack boxes in the back when the bell on the door chimed.  
  
"Get it please," my mom said, still buried in boxes.  
  
"Um…ok," I said not sure what to do. But I guess I had had enough jobs to know what to do. I went to the counter and an older man was standing there holding a cowboy hat. He looked familiar. Everyone looked familiar, and that was beginning to annoy me.  
  
"Good day," he said to me.  
  
"Hello, how can I help you?" My eyes darted to the back where my mom's assistant was sitting, well it looked like she was sleeping. No wonder my mom wanted me here.  
  
"Is Mx. De Luca here?" he questioned, casually looking towards the back room.  
  
"Hold on a second please," I said politely as I moved into the storage room. "Mom, there's a man outside. He asked for you."  
  
"Must be the sheriff," she mumbled. The sheriff, that's who it was. Valenti. It was amazing how the memory worked. It could sleep for nine years, when you most wanted it to be awake, and then the smallest thing would remind it of everything, when you could care lass about them.   
  
If only the memories of the last nine years could fall asleep. I wish they could be erased. I wish I didn't see my father's face every time I closed my eyes. I wish I couldn't hear his voice every time I was engulfed in silence. I wish I didn't have to feel his hand on me every time someone else touched me. I wish…It was no use.  
  
I looked up and both my mom and Valenti were totally engrossed in each other, it was like they were in their own little world. Had my mom found someone, had she found happiness, love? Good for her. I inched myself towards the back of the store and busied myself with organizing some of the shelves. My mother may be a great lady, but she was not organized. I guess I wasn't either, but it was something to do. Although I don't think my mother would have noticed me if I were standing right between her and the sheriff. They were cute, to tell you the truth.  
  
The sheriff left and my mom started humming. "Elaine, could you take inventory for me?" My mother's assistant sat up straight in her chair and bolted to the storage room.  
  
"So what's with you and the sheriff?" I teased.  
  
"Oh nothing," she replied, turning her back on me.  
  
"Come on. You going out?"   
  
"Well sorta," she said, avoiding the subject. "He's got a cute son, you know?"  
  
"Yeah and if you two get married he'd be my stepbrother."  
  
"We're no where near marriage."  
  
"Niether am I," I laughed.  
  
"I was just thinking…" she mused.  
  
"And I was just saying no. Besides how many boys are you going to try to set me up with? First it's that Michael kid, then it's um…"  
  
"Kyle," she filled in.  
  
"Yeah, Kyle. Let's take 'em one at a time. Who should go first?" I questioned giving her a little punch on the arm. Neither of them would go first if I had my way. Nope, no more boys for me. Yeah right.  
  



	4. Aliens

"Hey," Liz said as I walked into the Crashdown. "How was your first day of work?"  
  
"Very uneventful. Only the sheriff stopped by," I answered taking a seat at the counter Liz was cleaning. She continued rubbing an invisible spot and chattered on.  
  
"Yeah, your mother and him are cute together."  
  
"Yeah, I guess. She keeps trying to set me up with any boy my age she knows," I sighed. Liz laughed then looked past me. I turned in my seat to see what had caught her attention, it was Max. His sister, Isabel, was with him, and that spiky haired kid, um…well my memory wasn't that good.   
  
Isabel was beautiful, tall and blonde, her eyes were fixed on me, she looked angry. The boy, well he hadn't changed much since third grade. He had the same hair, the same dark, brooding eyes. He too looked angry at my presence. I began to feel uncomfortable. I looked at Liz, but lo and behold, she was talking to Max.  
  
Isabel and the boy sat down at the counter and talked to each other in low voices, every once in a while glancing in my direction. I got up to leave but Liz noticed and grabbed my arm.  
  
"Stay," she said.  
  
"No I really should be getting home." I could tell she wasn't buying my excuse.  
  
"Why don't we go in the back?" she suggested, directing it at the others at the counter. Isabel rose and grabbed the boy's hand. It was really beginning to annoy me that I didn't know the kid's name. They walked towards the back and I followed, feeling like a lost puppy. I hated being the odd man out, I liked to be in control.   
  
I needed to be in control. It wasn't a want, it was a need. If I wasn't in control of my feelings, of my surroundings, of my world, I was better off dead. That's why I hated New York. No one was in control but the city, and my father.  
  
They sat on a the couch, Isabel on Michael's lap. It was obvious they were together. I felt a twinge of jealousy, alhtough I don't know where it cam from. Max came into the room after me and the room was filled with an awkward silence.  
  
Liz breezed in a few minutes later. "Maria, I don't think you've properly met Isabel and Michael," she said Michael that was his name. Interesting, that was the same name as my neighbor. But seventeen was too young to be living on your own, or was it?   
  
"Hey," Isabel said, her voice icy. I guess she didn't like new people. Michael just glared at me. I glared back and he smirked.  
  
"Hey," I replied. Isabel had obviously missed the little gestures Michael was directing at me. That was obviously the only conversation that was going to happen.  
  
"So Maria how's life in Roswell so far?" Max asked.   
  
"Good I guess." I hadn't come for a party, just to talk to Liz. Now I had these rude people staring at me, hating me for no reason. I'd have to ask Liz if they did this to everyone.  
  
"Well we just came to get a coke, right?" he said addressing the couple on the couch. Why did everyone around here seem to be lovesick? It was annoying. "And now that we've had it, we're going to go."  
  
I ignored the fact that they hadn't really had a coke and let him drag Isabel and Michael out the door. I watched Michael as he left, definitely was the neighbor, same height, same bone structure, same strong jaw-line and muscular build. Well, well, well.   
  
"So how is life?" Liz asked when they had gone.  
  
"Shouldn't you be working?" I wondered.  
  
"No, I'm on break." I don't think she really was on break but I guess she could make it whenever she wanted since her parents owned the store. "Where've you been? You haven't been around in a few days."  
  
"Wow, you noticed. With Max I thought you didn't know anyone else was alive." She just gave me a look and I laughed. She was fun to tease. "What's up with Max's sister, and that Michael kid?"  
  
"Oh, they like to keep to themselves."  
  
"So, I guess they haven't changed much since I left. Always off by themselves. The weird kids in town. It's weird too, cause Isabel's so pretty, and Michael's not lacking for looks. Seems like they would be really popular." It didn't match up.   
  
"Well they had a hard childhood. Max and Is were adpoted and Michael had a foster father."  
  
"Had?"  
  
"Long story. They've had some tough times." Something in Liz's eyes told me there was a lot more to the story.  
  
"So how come you're mixed up with them?" Again the eyes flashed and she looked like she was struggling.  
  
"Uh…uh..Max…um…saved my life," she stuttered.  
  
"What do you mean 'saved your life'? Like knight in shining armor, kissed you and carried you away to some exotic place far from Roswell? Last time I checked your address was the room above the Crashdown."  
  
"I mean…well..I was.." I could tell she was really scared to tell me about what had happened to her so I just let her work through it. I knew Liz would tell me if she thought she could. I trusted her, she was the one person I had always trusted, even when she wasn't there.  
  
"I was…shot." Nothing could have prepared me for that.  
  
"Shot…like gun, bullet, blood, shot?" I was rambling, but couldn't help it. 'Take a deep breath,' I coached myself. 'In, out, control.' Again it was the control thing.  
  
"Yes," she said.  
  
"So what did Max do? Get and ambulance, do mouth to mouth?" I laughed at my feeble attempt to a joke. I was willing to say anything to lighten the mood.  
  
"He healed me, Max…healed…me," she said and tears began to fall down her cheeks. I couldn't do anything but stare, frozen in my place. "I was going to die, and he saved me."  
  
"How?" I breathed.  
  
"I can't tell you. He made me promise not to tell anyone." I could see the pain in her expression, here it in her voice. She didn't really want to hide this from me. Maybe that's why they looked so angry at me. They thought I knew something, or they knew Liz would tell me whatever it was.  
  
"Ok," I said understanding, but there was disappointment in my voice.  
  
"Max is an alien, Isabel and Michael too," she said, her voice high in pitch but barely audible, like the whine of a faraway train.   
  
My jaw dropped, "An alien?" I practically yelled. "Have you lost your mind?"   
  



	5. Dreams

Maria lay looking into the dark, the moon casting silver shadows on the ceiling. She couldn't sleep, still after all this time, it was hard to close her eyes at night. Her eyes made patterns with the shadows, her mind wandering, trying to block out everything.  
  
She heard a rustling in the room, like wind through curtains. Someone had come in, she could feel thir presence. Her eyes strained to see through the darkness, head turning towards the figure. Maria reached over to turn on the light but was stopped by a hand over her mouth. Maria froze and tried to collect her head. So many childhood memories flashed through her brain, immobilizing her further. Was he back?  
  
"Shhh," she heard a voice say. A tall figure loomed beside her bed. Maria struggled and screamed against the person's hand. "Shhh," she heard again. "I'm not going to hurt you." The voice was a threat. Maria relaxed, but gave one last scream.  
  
Suddenly her voice filled the room, the hand had pulled away. Maria cut her scream short and flicked on the light. There stood Michael. He was staring at his hand as if she had burned him with her voice. When he looked up their eyes met and for a fleeting moment Maria saw fear and pain reflected in his eyes. But the moment passed and his eyes turned to stone, closing out all emotion, a mask hiding everything. She glared up at him, there was no way he was going to get away with this.  
  
"What are you doing here?" she spat. Michael shook his head, like a dog trying to shake off water. Something had happened to him when she screamed. He was an enigma. "What. Are. You. Doing. Here?" she said slowly trying to wake him.  
  
"Nothing," he said nonchalantly. He began picking up things on her dresser.  
  
"Put that down," Maria hissed, scared she could wake her mother. She had wanted Maria to go out with boys, not have sleepovers. "And what do you mean nothing? Obviously you're here for something."  
  
"Just checking up on you. Making sure…"  
  
"I won't say anything. I promise," Maria cut him off. He didn't trust her. "But you had to wake me up in the middle of the night to do this."  
  
"Yes," he said simply, still going through stuff.  
  
"You're a bastard," she said.  
  
"What?" he said dropping the mirror he had in his hand. Michael walked over to the bed and stared at her, his eyes challenged her, and she met his gaze with the same challenge.  
  
Maria sat up, pulling herself off the pillows she had been leaning against. "Bastard," she hissed inches from his face. "First, you're the rudest boy I've ever met, and then you come and try and rape me in the middle of the night, not to mention…"  
  
Maria stopped when she saw Michael's eyes moving up and down her body, his cheeks were red. When he heard her stop he looked at her face and then quickly glanced away. Maria looked down at herself. She was wearing nothing but a bra and underwear.   
  
The room was enveloped in an embarrassed silence. Maria smiled wryly. She didn't mind that he had seen her, she didn't really wear much more for clothing anyway. But it kind of ruined the whole mood.  
  
"Um…I guess I'll go now," Michael said. Maria could see he was fighting hard not to look at her, the front of his pants already told her she had affected him.  
  
"Not until you tell me why you're here." Maria knew why he was there, it was that stupid alien thing but she really didn't want him to leave. Insomnia was a lonely disease.   
  
"You know why I'm here and you promised, so there is no more reason for me to stay." Michael walked towards the door. Maria bolted from her bed and wedged herself between Michael and the door. There was less space then she realized.   
  
"You can't go that way, my mother will hear you," she whispered.   
  
"Fine," he said indignantly. "I'll go through the window." Maria grabbed his arm.   
  
"No, I want to know why you came here tonight. Why you couldn't at least trust me until morning," Maria was desperate. She didn't really care who he was, or what planet he was from she needed company. And she was beginning to think his might be pleasant, might.  
  
"I came to see if you would tell anyone about our secret. It's obvious you won't. Now I'm going to go sleep." Maria gripped his arm a little tighter but he pulled away. Again he looked pained, as if touching her did something to him, something more than physical, like how she felt when their skin touched. All she felt was heat, intense and melting heat. He looked like she had stabbed him.  
  
Maria watched him as he climbed out her window. She crawled back between her covers and closed her eyes.   
  
*dream sequence*  
A strong hand reached out and grabbed her. "You won't tell anyone, will you?" a voice threatened. It came from the throat, low and raspy, sexy.  
  
"Is that a warning?" she teased. He didn't look amused. His face was like a mask, always guarded, even in dreams. "What's wrong with you? Why are you always so secret?" She knew the he was hiding something, that other galaxies aside there was something that had hurt him, someone.   
  
"And why are you always so talkative?" he snapped back. She pouted and pulled against his arm.   
  
"Well I've had enough of you," she said trying to gain back her dignity.   
  
"You have, have you?" He leaned in closer to her. Heat seared through her body. There was intensity in his eyes that she had only seen in one other man's eyes before. It excited her, but in turn scared her too. She backed away from him, but he advanced. She watched the muscles in his body move with him, gracefully. He was beautiful, and she felt connected to him, she felt one with him.  
  
But he twisted, his sculpted face melting away, dripping to the floor beneath him to reveal….  
*end*  
  
Maria awoke with a start, her heart pounding in her chest and blood rushing through her ears. If she was to have dreams like this every time she fell asleep, she simply wouldn't do it. But then daytime was no worse. She simply could not shake the memories of New York, of her father.  
  



	6. Michael Guerin

"Honey. Are you ok?" my mother asked. "That's the third thing you've dropped today."  
  
"Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired," I answered. "I didn't get much sleep." I still was haunted by the dream. I felt stuck, I was drowning in my past, struggling to find the surface, to start living in the present. But no matter how I tried, I couldn't reach it. That was the real distraction, the real reason I couldn't even stand on my own two feet. Lack of sleep I could deal with.  
  
"Why don't you take off early. I can manage the store. There are no more deliveries for today anyway." She emphasized her offer by handing me my coat and purse.  
  
"You sure? I'm…"  
  
"I'm sure," she interrupted, giving me a light shove towards the door. "I'll be home at around 8:30, I have a date with the sheriff. Is that ok?"  
  
"Yes, I'll be fine mom. I'm a big girl," I said with a smile.   
  
"Ok, then 8:30."  
  
"Have fun," I said opening the door. I got into my car and sighed. It had been a long day. I turned the key in the ignition and drove to the Crashdown, a talk with Liz always cheered me up. I liked having friends. I liked being free. But I wasn't. Chains still attached me to my past. But maybe Roswell would break them. Maybe Roswell would wake me up from the nightmare my father had given to me.  
  
I went into the restaurant and looked around for Liz. She wasn't around so I walked to the back to find her.  
  
"Liz," I called, walking into the back room.   
  
"She's in the bathroom," I heard someone say. Looking to my right I saw Max on the couch. Michael and Isabel were there too. Isabel had the same icy look on her face. I wondered if aliens could read minds, cause if she could…well let's just say the look on her face would have been justified.  
  
I looked to Michael but he was staring at the patterns in the carpet. I just couldn't help remembering the dream, how I had felt with him, how his touch made me tingle from head to toe. "Oh," I finally said. I walked towards the bathroom door and knocked.  
  
"Who is it?" I heard from inside.  
  
"It's me," I replied.   
  
"Come in me," she laughed. I heard the lock click, pulled the door open, and squeezed in. Liz was changing into her uniform.  
  
"Little late for work today?" I teased. Normally her shift started around one in the afternoon, it was nearly three.  
  
"Well you got off early didn't you?" she smirked.   
  
"My mom thought I needed a break after dropping a box of alien stickers for the third time." Liz looked at me concerned, apparently wanting an explanation. "I didn't get much sleep and you know I was always a klutz." Liz tilted her head downward and looked at me, she knew I was lying. She always knew when I lied, well most people can tell when I'm lying.  
  
"It's just all this stuff," I sighed. "I mean my father dying, moving back here, aliens. I can't handle it anymore." I broke down, tears soaking my cheeks and shirt. I slid to the floor, beaten. "I just can't. You and my mother are the only good things in my life since…well I can't even remember."  
  
Liz knelt on the floor. She wrapped me in her arms and pulled me to her. "It's going to be ok. You should have seen me the week after Max healed me. I was even more of a wreck than you, if you can believe it."   
  
I laughed a little and choked, "I can believe it." She laughed too. It was obvious Liz was a very emotional person.  
  
"I shouldn't have told you," she whispered.  
  
"Why? Is Max mad at you? Oh my god, I'm so…"  
  
"No he's not mad at me, he was the one who told me I should tell you. I wanted to tell you so bad. We fought about it a lot, but I won."  
  
"I screwed your life up so much." I felt bad. I had come back here and barged in on their lives. It wasn't fair to them.  
  
"No don't say that. I'm glad you came home. This is where you belong." And I knew what she was saying was true. I finally had a place to belong.  
  
"So what's so special about these 'aliens' anyway?" I said leaning up against the door. Liz sat back next to me.   
  
"Lizzie," we heard from behind the door.  
  
"My dad always had perfect timing," she laughed. I got up and held my hand out to her. She took it and I pulled her up off the floor.   
  
"Lizzie, come on you're hours late," Mr. Parker called.   
  
"I'm coming," she said as she stepped through the door. She turned to me, "I'll talk to you later, unless you want to find out on your own."  
  
"I don't think so," I said, there was definite fear laced throughout my voice. We walked out of the bathroom and Liz hurried out to the dining room to start work. I just sort of looked around at the aliens. I felt trapped, their eyes were all on me, all except Michael's. He seemed to be avoiding me. But the others looked like they were trying to melt me to the ground. They gave me the creeps.  
  
"So you're not gonna tell," Max said getting straight to the point. I felt the nervousness, it made me realize how much they were depending on me. The power made me feel better about this whole situation. Their fate was in my hands.  
  
"Well…" I teased, watching Isabel's face going from 'I'm gonna hurt you' to 'I'm gonna kill you.'   
  
"Maria, we're serious," Michael said, his eyes still avoiding me. "We've been through some shit that…" He stopped mid-sentence and looked into my face. I couldn't begin to guess what he was about to say, but he had that same look in his eyes he had had the night before. The same look of horror and pity, and understanding. It must have been some terrific shit, but why that look. The one that told me he knew. But I couldn't figure out how.  
  
"I told you I wouldn't tell. Liz probably told you I wouldn't tell. Why would I care? Why do I care that there are a bunch of aliens living next door to me? Just leave me alone," I said letting my emotions get the best of me. I didn't need to break down again, once was enough for the day, and especially not here. Isabel's expression seemed to soften. Maybe they weren't heartless after all.  
  
"We're not here to hurt you," Max reassured her. "But you can hurt us."  
  
"Fine. I'll stay away from you if you'll stay away from me." I challenged each alien with a stare. My eyes finally resting on Michael, who's eyes seemed glued to my face. He was strange.   
  
"That's not going to work," I thought I heard.   
  
"What?" I spat.  
  
"That isn't going to work," Michael said louder. Isabel turned to face him. I knew what she was thinking. She gave him the same death ray stare she had given me earlier. She wasn't liking me too much.   
  
"And why not?" I questioned.  
  
"Because Liz is always around us," he said, too quickly. "You are friends with Liz. You're gonna run into us sometime." It seemed like a good answer. Although for some reason it didn't piece together right. Michael made me feel like I was trying to put together a puzzle where nothing fit. He also made me feel like a twelve-year-old girl getting asked out for the first time, but I chose to ignore that feeling.  
  
"Fine. Just don't try anything weird on me," I demanded. I was still scared that they had some power to screw up my head or turn me into a bunny or something.  
  
"It's already done," Michael said straight-faced.  
  
"What?" I said skeptically. I'd been through too much to believe someone in these circumstances.   
  
"Michael, cut that shit out," Max laughed.   
  
"But it's fun, Maxwell," he mock whined.  
  
"It's enough. We know she's not gonna tell anyone. Leave her be."  
  
"You ruin all the fun," Michael said. "Right Izzy?" Isabel just leaned down and gave him a quick kiss. My insides flopped. 'Stop,' I told myself. Michael wasn't the type of man I wanted to be with. He was too much like my father, that same fire, the same intensity, the same mean-spiritedness. I could sense it. But then he was very guarded. Maybe it was just a load of shit to keep people away. 'You wish De Luca.'  
  



	7. Favorite Songs

I was heading towards the door when I heard someone call me, "Yo, you, Maria girl," I heard. I knew it was Michael. Though everything told me not to turn around I spun to face him. He was closer to me than I realized and I stumbled backward.   
  
I tried desperately to think of something snappy, something that would keep him far away from me forever, but even if I had been able to think, I wouldn't have been able to say anything. Why did he make me feel like a damn schoolgirl? Maybe it was this "going back to childhood thing" or whatever. I never really had had a great life, maybe now I was making up for lost time.  
  
"Um…what?" I finally managed. He just looked at me and then proceeded.  
  
"Can you give me a ride home?" Somehow this request let me regain the composure I thought was gone.  
  
"Give you, a ride home? Mister I don't know if you realize this, but you scare the pants off me." I saw his eyes run the length of my body and heat spread through my blood. I must have turned the color of a tomato because he laughed a little.  
  
"Come on, or I'll use my superpowers," Michael said, his voice low and almost threatening. As much as I despised him, and as much as I was attracted to him, I feared him more.   
  
I led him to my car, watching over my shoulder with each step. I thought I saw him smile, but my muscles were so tense I thought I might have been hallucinating. I swear I was shaking, he probably was laughing at me, the nervous little girl, afraid to get hurt.  
  
I knew it wasn't safe for me to drive, I could never drive right when I was nervous. But I didn't want to tell him that. I had to save face, it was the only way I could look at myself each day in the mirror, to remain in control, and move through life.  
  
I turned on the radio but all the songs annoyed me. Finally Michael reached out and stopped my hand that was fidgeting with the radio dial.   
  
"Just stop. I'm not going to hurt you. I just needed a ride home," he said with an innocent smile.  
  
"Then why didn't you just get Isabel or Max to get you there? I told you to stay away from me." He just looked out the window like he hadn't heard. How could someone be so incredibly frustrating? He leaned over again and immediately my body stiffened, not sure of his motives. But he had just gone to hit the play button on the CD player.   
  
She whispered softly  
To tell her story   
About how she had been wronged  
  
It was my favorite track, I wonder why? Not too hard to figure out if you knew my past.   
  
As she lay lifeless  
He stole her innocence  
And this is how she carried on  
  
I started to sing softly with the song and I saw Michael glance at me from the corner of his eye. I made my voice light and breathy. I saw him straighten. So I was still attractive. But now I just felt dirty. I stopped suddenly and his head snapped toward me. I turned away and looked out the windshield. Why did I feel so disgusting? I was only flirting, I've seen worse in my day.   
  
Remember you're not alone  
  
I pulled into the parking lot of the apartment building and turned off the car. Taking a deep breath I slowly turned to face the boy sitting next to me. He was staring at me, but his face moved away when I looked at him. I opened the door and hopped out. I stalked away listening for him to do something, move somewhere.  
  
I just wanted to get away, far way from aliens, from Michael. He was dangerous, all men were. It was just a fact of life. And his superpowers didn't make anything better. But there was something about him, something painful. I could feel it in my bones, like the cold in the winter, it just settled there, made you shiver uncontrollably.   
  
I heard him get out of the car. He hesitated for a moment, slammed the door and started jogging towards me. I picked up my pace but he was fast, even in a jog. His hand grabbed my arm and spun me around to face him.  
  
What was this guy's problem? Did he like torturing me? Maybe it's some sort of alien pleasure. Or was he just a bastard?  
  
"What happened in New York?" he demanded.  
  
"Fuck off," I spat in his face and tried to pull away. Again he was stronger than me. It was an unfair battle. I had no choice but to put up with his shit.  
  
He looked a little taken back but he covered it quickly. I guess he didn't expect such words from me. "What happened in New York?" he repeated.   
  
"And when did you become my friend?" I mocked. I glared at him. He had that same frightened look in his eyes, like he had seen a ghost. I saw Michael's hand moved towards my face. He brushed his knuckles against my cheek. I turned away, uncomfortable under his gaze, aroused and scared by his touch.  
  
"What did he do to you?" he asked, his voice softer. The tone was endearing, a slight quiver in his voice with each word. I dropped my eyes to the ground. I couldn't tell him, what would he know? Why would he care anyway? He barely knew me, let alone liked me. But I have a feeling he knew more than I did about loneliness, about abuse, and unhappiness.   
  
"Who?" I asked playing dumb. But I knew damn well who he meant. I just didn't know how he'd figured it out. Maybe I just seemed distant and he had some sort of intuition for that. 'Stop making excuses,' I told myself. My whole life was excuses…and lies.  
  
"You know," he said.  
  
"Look, I don't know what you're talking about and if you wouldn't mind letting me go, I have stuff to do." I yanked my arm away and he let me. I walked away from him slowly. I wanted to look back, I wanted to see him looking at me with those sad eyes, I wanted to run into his arms and cry and tell him everything. I wanted him to brush my hair back and kiss away my tears, I wanted him to hold me and never let me go. But I didn't turn around.  
  
When I reached my door I finally looked behind me. He wasn't there. I guess I didn't really expect him to be. I unlocked the door and opened it. I was home. It was welcoming, warm and comforting. I walked to my room and sunk onto my bed and for the first time in months I fell asleep.  
  
//Bodies entangled on a bed/the smell of lust fills my nostrils/I look up at Michael, pleading him with innocent eyes/He came down, hard/He breaks me, takes me for his own/His hand stifles my screams/His face melts away revealing the disgusting creature he is…//  
  
And I woke up, sweat drenching my body. Not again, I thought. I didn't need these dreams. I didn't need Michael, or my father. Maybe it was true…maybe all he told me was true. Maybe I was the slut he said I was every time he took me to bed, maybe I really was a whore, a dirty retched woman ready to be used and thrown out like the trash. Maybe I should have stayed in New York…he told me that was where I belonged, out on the corner of some street selling my "sexy self" to keep him alive. But when had I ever listened to him? When had I ever followed what he told me? Always, hadn't I?  
  
I got out of bed and walked to the bathroom. After splashing water over my face I felt a little better. I stumbled back towards my bed but knew I wouldn't sleep so I headed for the living room. Maybe some TV would calm my nerves. But after flipping through all the channels and finding nothing enjoyable I clicked off the television and picked up the Homemakers Catalog on the coffee table. My mind kept flashing back to the dream, and how I felt.  
  
Maybe I couldn't live without it…maybe I couldn't live without him. Bile rose in my throat at the thought. But it was true. I would be living with him the rest of my life, with pieces of him at least. His memory would always be burned in my brain, and his brand on my skin. I would never break free of his crimes, of his stupidity. I would forever be under his evil dirty spell.  
  



	8. Late Night Visitors

I fell asleep on the couch sometime during the night. I woke up with tears staining my cheeks, I could feel their sticky, bitter salt clinging to my skin, feeding off of it. I looked at the clock. One o'clock in the morning, great. At least I hadn't had another dream, at least not one I could remember.   
  
My mother hadn't come home. Her purse wasn't in it's spot on the chair and her bedroom door was still open. But there was a light on in the kitchen. I got up, not sure what to do. I walked towards the door way, there was a figure rummaging through our refrigerator. A hungry burglar, my favorite.  
  
I watched for a few minutes as he took everything out, examined it and put it back wherever he pleased. So much for keeping the refrigerator clean. I thought maybe mom had brought the sheriff home with her, but I doubted she would.  
  
"What the fuck are you doing?" I asked harshly, more confident than I really was. The person spun around. Michael. What the hell was he doing here? Was he part of the rent or something? A visit from Michael a day so that we could keep his bill down and he could get his kicks. Not while I was living here it wouldn't be.  
  
"Do you always use such profane language?" he asked, his sentence so uncharacteristic. I supposed he'd used worse in his day, although I didn't know if anything was worse according to parents.  
  
"No, only when I'm dealing with creepy aliens who have a tendency to break into houses. What are you doing here?"  
  
"Checking up on you," he smirked and turned back to the refrigerator.  
  
"Checking up on me?" I repeated. "What, are you my babysitter? Did my mommy call you and tell you I needed to be taken care of? Cause I'll tell you something. I'm hard core, boy. I'm more than you could ever handle."  
  
"Wanna find out?" he said suggestively. I stared at his ass, nice piece of meat it was. I just wanted to…There I go again. I scolded myself for my slip up and slapped my arm.  
  
"You'd explode," I said trying to remember how to play the game. He could make me forget everything I knew, my name, my address, sex. I couldn't understand how a man as sexy as him could make me forget about sex, but it did. When I felt him in the room, smelled his spaceboy smell, my mind just cleared. It was refreshing. Maybe that's why I liked him so much.  
  
"At least I'd die happy."  
  
"You wish. Really why are you here?" I asked nicely, well as nice as I could be to a man. Even this man, as wonderful as he seemed, couldn't be trusted. He still couldn't make me forget the guilt of my past, the dirty secrets that lay beneath my surface, itching to break free.  
  
"You seemed upset this afternoon, I just wanted to make sure you were ok," he said softly turning again to face me. He stepped closer and I felt the heat between us intensify. It sizzled and crackled like water thrown on a hot, dry pan. It was different from anything I'd ever felt before. Maybe this was supposed to be how it was, passion, fire. Not just stuffy and sweaty and dirty, oh how dirty it all was. But with him everything seemed radiant, it was all lit up with new lighting, sparkly and clean.  
  
"And you came here at one in the morning to find this out?" I said skeptically. 'Don't trust him,' I told myself. 'He's a snake like the rest of them.' But somehow I didn't believe myself. I sensed he was different from all those rats that walked the sewers of New York City.  
  
"Actually I knocked on your door around 9 o'clock, but nobody answered."  
  
"So you just let yourself in?" I questioned. The boy didn't know how to save his ass if it caught on fire and there was a bucket of water sitting right behind him. I wondered how he's lived through seventeen years of his life already. It was quite amazing.  
  
He just kind of looked at me and then proceeded with his own thought process. "So are you all right?"  
  
"Why does everyone keep asking me that?" I'm fine."  
  
"You don't look fine," he replied.  
  
"And how does fine look, may I ask?"  
  
"Not like you. Not tired and worn out all the time. Not scared every time a man walks across your path, like a superstitious brat who just saw a black cat. Not like that."  
  
His words stung, they touched me deep inside and hurt me to the core. I was surprised he had noticed. I knew he had been through some shit in his life, maybe that had made him sensitive to others. But I wasn't about to admit he was right. Because he wasn't. I was fine. I was alive and that's enough.  
  
"Well you don't look fine to me," I snapped at him. "Why can't you just leave me alone. I'm not your business anymore, I never was. I want nothing to do with you or your alien friends." He looked …hurt by my words. I didn't understand. He was so rude to me, yet so sweet in his own way. It just made me want him more, and made me feel dirtier than ever before.  
  
Maybe boys didn't grow up, well I knew they didn't grow up. It was like in kindergarten when the little boys pulled the little girl's hair when they had a crush. But instead of pulling hair, this little boy pushed buttons, and pulled heartstrings. He played mind games, and to me they were dangerous.  
  
I turned and stalked out of the kitchen and sat on the couch. I put the t.v. on and tried to concentrate on the stupid infomercial for the ab-roller or some other nonsense exercise equipment. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Michael walk to the door. He grabbed the door knob, but paused for a split second. He spun around and walked toward the couch. I stood up ready to walk away should he ask more dumb questions. But he grabbed me by the shoulders and suddenly his lips were on mine.  
  
The sparks that had been between us since we met ignited and heat spread like wildfire through my limbs. Never had a kiss meant so much, had so much effect on my body. I usually stayed away from it. Lips were cold and disgusting, the bearer of germs.  
  
But Michael's lips were heavenly, like the warm sun shining against bare skin. I leaned into him, wanting to attach myself to his mouth for the rest of eternity.  
  
Suddenly the room began to spin and I saw a flash of something on my closed eyelids. It was like a movie was being projected onto them, but the movie kept skipping.  
  
//A man with his hand up/ a woman with big breasts and alcohol on her breath/Me walking into the Crashdown/Me, sleeping//  
  
I broke away. I didn't want to see anymore. The images were coming from Michael. Like I was pulling memories from him, memories embedded deep within him. But it wasn't just pictures. There were emotions too. And they were emotions I recognized, fear, disgust, love, confusion. They were all mixed together into a twisted color, one that made me dizzy. The emotions were mine, but they were his, they were all his.  
  
Tears sprang to my eyes at the realization. I didn't want to know. I didn't want to know that anyone had gone through what I did. I didn't want to know how he felt about me, that he cared about me. I didn't want any part of it.  
  
I turned away from him as the tears left salty tracks on my face. I felt strong arms envelop me. Michael kissed the back of my neck softly, moving his lips up to kiss away the tears on my cheek. His head moved to the other side of my face and he cooled the burns my tears had left there. Never had anyone been gentle with me. Never had they kissed my eyes and just let me cry. Never.   
  
Then I collapsed onto him. It must have been from exhaustion, or excitement, or confusion. But I fainted slipping into a world of purple stars.  
  
  



	9. Secret Past

I rubbed my eyes not sure as to where I was. A strange face was peering over me. "Are you all right?" a male voice said. It sounded as if I was trying to listen through syrup, his voice was low and garbled. I thought I knew that sound, the slurred speech could only ean one thing.   
  
I screamed. How had he gotten here? Why was he still torturing me after his death?   
  
"Shhhh...it's all right," heard the voice again. "You'll be ok." A hand reached out and stroked my forehead. I suddenly remembered. it was Michael, it wasn't him. I had fainted and now Michael was here. Strangely that thought comforted me.   
  
"I thought you were him," I said looking up into his face. His eyes were warm, inviting. "I thought you were him," I repeated. Michael took his hand from my forehead and pulled me to him. His hand rubbed my back in circles. He knew just how to comfort someone, just how to make them feel safe.   
  
I felt like a child, crying on his shoulder and all, but suddenly I didn't care that I was crying. I couldn't stop the tears and for the first time in my life I didn't care if I could or not. A feeling of relief swept over me as each tear poured from me.  
  
After I had fainted Michael must have carried me to my bed. Now I was happy I had the soft cushioning underneath my still weak body. Michael continued to hold me and whisper softly.  
  
"I'm sorry," I finally managed. I felt like such an idiot. The feeling of freedom fled and I retreated from him. He let go hesitantly.   
  
"For what? For screaming? For crying? For having a bastard father? I don't see anything you should be sorry for," he said. I still pulled away. Why did he have to be so rational? Didn't he know it was all my fault, everything was. I was a whore, addicted to men. I needed them.   
  
And "he" had convinced me they needed me, even though I could see it in their eyes that they didn't. The cold stare they gave me, the look of disgust. But I looked past it. I was trash, he told me so every time he came to me. I deserved it. I let him in every night. I let him take me over and over. I let him steal my innocence, my soul. I belonged back in New York, on the street corner I was raised on or in some anonymous guy's bed with my legs spread open for the world to get inside or with "him" beating me, stringing curses together with my name.  
  
I pulled away and tried to run to the bathroom, but he caught my arm and pulled me back to him. I struggled. Was this the way it was always going to be? Would I always have to struggle to keep my independence? Would I always have to run and hide? I hit him hard in the chest. He looked miffed but he didn't let go of me. I felt his arms once again embrace me and again I was powerless against him.   
  
"You need to cry, it's ok to cry," he whispered. I couldn't look at him, but I didn't have to see his face to know that he was crying. I didn't want to cry, not again. It was pointless. "It's ok," his voice came out hoarse and strangled. I felt his shirt begin to dampen with my tears, and the back of mine with his. I was safe once more.   
  
For the second time that night I had found my salvation. If only I could hold onto it. I wanted to. I wanted to stay warm in his arms until my tear ducts were dry. But my head was screaming. I had gone to battle with every instinct I had ever known and I was losing. I gave one more push against him. My head told me to get out of his arms, to run as far away as I could. But I was too weak to fight anymore. The battle within me was threatening my body.   
  
Michael just continued to hold me tight. I think he was afraid to let go. His tears were slowing but mine were just flowing harder. He didn't talk, he didn't move. Never had I been in a room so quite so still, at least not with another person. And by myself I couldn't stand the silence. But now I invited it. I wanted to fall asleep in Michael's arms.   
  
As the thought crossed my mind he slipped off his shoes, careful not to move me. And laid down on my bed. He pulled me up close to him. I could hear the rhythm of his heart. It was the most beautiful sound I had ever heard. I looked up at him and smiled, and he smiled down at me.   
  
"How did you know?" I whispered, wiping the last of the salty teardrops off my face. I don't know why I was whispering, my mother wasn't coming home tonight. I would see her at work tomorrow and that would be that. That's how it was when she had a date I quickly learned. She wanted me to go on dates, but I was far from the dating type of girl. Plus men scared me, well all except Michael.  
  
"I'll tell you later," he said in a normal tone. I guess he wasn't even scared if my mom did come home. My mom liked him, but if she found him in my bed with me I know that relationship would be over. She was very protective, as a mother should be. I was sorry I missed ten years with her. Maybe she could have helped me. But I would have been too scared, too ashamed, to let her know anyway.  
  
"Go to sleep."  
  
"No," I said firmly.   
  
"You're tired," he said.  
  
"Who are you to tell me when I'm tired and when I'm not? There you go with that caring stuff again." It was all a mask, all a fucking mask. I was flattered that he cared, but I needed to know. I needed to know if I had said anything, or done something that let him know. This was my secret, not his. My past, not his.  
  
"Maria there are people in this world who have an organ called the heart. It let's you love people." His tone was patronizing and it angered me. I pulled back from him and looked at him with a stone cold face.  
  
"That's bullshit. You don't love with a frickin organ. You love with your emotions, it's part of your brain."  
  
"Well than use it."   
  
"Bastard," I screamed before I knew what I was doing. "Tell me how you know, tell me how you know." I shook him with all the strength I had left. He let me do it. He let me punch him and shake him until I started crying again. He let me curse his bloody name until I was breathless and weak. He let me scream until I was hoarse. And all the while he just sat in front of me staring. I let out all my anger on him.   
  
I let out ten years of anger and rage, and then collapsed into a pile on the bed. I had used up every emotion I knew, every one I was trained to use. And there was nothing left inside of me, nothing left but organs and blood.   
  
"How did you know?" I repeated. Trying to pretend nothing had happened. "How?" I insisted.  
  
Michael breathed deep. I laid down against him. He must have thought I was a psycho patient, schizophrenic. "You let me see," he simply said. I started to sit up but decided against it. He had been through enough abuse tonight. And I didn't want to end up like all the people I had ever known, abusers of their lovers. But Michael wasn't my lover. He wasn't my friend. He was the boy next door who wouldn't leave me alone, he was an alien…and I had a major crush.  
  
"Are you a mind reader?" I asked, not really wanting to know the answer. If he was…well I didn't want to think about that.  
  
"No. But I can get images and feelings. That first time I touched you, when you were sleeping, your mind was open…" his voice trailed off.   
  
"What did you see?" I no longer cared how he saw it. It scared me that he could see inside me, that he could find my secrets. "Is that why you looked scared of me? Why you let go of me like I burned you?"  
  
"Slow down," he said, but I barely heard him over the whirling thoughts in my head. Thoughts were supposed to be private, not open for reading by some random alien off the street. I couldn't possibly slow down. What would he think of me if he knew the whole story? What if he found me out? How could he ever look at me again without disgust or hatred? How could I ever live here if they all knew?   
  
"Maria," he said shaking me. My mind was still spinning, the noise of my thoughts drowning out his voice. My head was pounding and my mouth was dry, but I pressed him for answers. I could hear my voice pushing through my vocal chords, high and nervous.   
  
"What did you see? What did you see?" I chanted. My father had driven me crazy. My body was sweating and I fought to keep from fainting once again.   
  
I concentrated on Michael's face, his eyes like the light at the end of the tunnel. I wasn't ready for heaven, earth was where I belonged. But I was hanging onto a thread, Michael was the only thing keeping me grounded.  
  
"Maria…you…" I could see his mouth moving but words didn't make sense to me. But his words were calling me back. My breath was slowing and my head came to a halt. My life felt like the tide of a sea, my emotions coming in and out on waves and I had no control to stop them. Some deep force within me pulled them in and then let them go.   
  
"Maria, are you ok?" Michael asked for the hundredth time since I'd met him. "You just blacked out. It was like you left your body."  
  
"Sorry, I'm all right," I said. "What did you see?" I repeated making sure he hadn't forgotten. I could feel the tide pulling away farther and my body was growing weak. But I needed to know the answer before another wave crashed over my brain, before I scared him away. I was surprised he had stayed this long.  
  
" Are you sure you're all right?" His eyes were searching for contact with mine, but I wouldn't let him look into them. If eyes were really the windows to the soul I didn't want him looking inside and I couldn't find the blinds to block the view. The lights were on and it was dark outside, and that always makes it easiest to see the secrets behind the panes of glass.  
  
"Yes," I said, playing with the corner of my comforter. I had never sat in a bed with a guy, just sat and talked. It was nice. It felt normal, like everything was supposed to be. Not twisted, like I was inside. If I couldn't be normal, at least I could participate in it.  
  
"I saw darkness the first time. But there was a fear that filled the darkness. Then you closed yourself off, guarded me from reaching you." He paused and breathed deep. I could tell he was looking at me, trying to gauge my reaction to what he was saying. But what was I supposed to think. These were my feelings, at least that's what he said. I just kept playing with my blanket, praying that he hadn't seen anything worse than that.  
  
"And the second time?"  
  
Michael took another deep breath. "The second time you were angry with me and you let go of your shield. It was worse the second time. The fear wasn't there, but there was pain and screams. I could feel the screams vibrating through me, though I couldn't hear them." There was a thickness in his voice as he spoke and I thought he was going to cry again. "There was a man there." He stopped as if he forgot what he was going to say.   
  
I waited for him to continue but he didn't. I finally looked up and he was watching me.   
  
"Who was he Maria?" he asked, his voice pleading with me. I didn't know someone could care so much, especially for someone they just met.  
  
"The man? I couldn't tell you. There's been too many. Maybe you saw my father, maybe not." I didn't know what else to tell him. I couldn't lie. I knew what he saw, I knew exactly who it was. But I couldn't tell him that. I couldn't tell him it was the only time I screamed, it was the only time I'd felt pain. It was my father…my first time.  
  
But he saw it. He saw straight through my lie. And this time I knew it wasn't his alien powers that told him. I couldn't lie to Michael. He took every defense I had set up from me and left me naked and exposed. There were no walls left when I was around him, and my eyes were transparent, letting him inside to see every secret. And it scared me. I didn't know how to survive without protection. I didn't know how to keep other's from knowing. If he knew they all would. There was no way to stay away from prying eyes, not here in Roswell. At least in the city I was invisible. No one cared how I earned my money.  
  
"It was your father," he stated for me. I nodded glad that I did not have to make the admission with words. My voice wouldn't have held up. "It's all right. You can tell me."  
  
I hadn't wanted to say anything. I willed myself to keep it to myself, but things were starting to happen inside me tonight. Locks were opening to doors that I had shut when I was seven. I was finding keys I had lost ten years ago and he had helped me. And when he asked me to tell him I found the key to the oldest door of my soul. The door opened and my story poured out of my mouth.   
  
Slowly I told him about my life in New York. How my father had bribed me with false promises to go with him to the city. I told him about the night he saw, the first time my father came to me. I told him how my father had taken my innocence at seven years old. Michael looked at me with pity and concern. I looked away, not wanting his sympathy. I just wanted to get through the whole story.  
  
"He came to me that night, the first one in our new apartment. He told me what a good girl I was for following him, for keeping him company. And when I cried and asked if I'd see Mommy again soon he stroked my hair and told me my mother was not worthy of me. I still remember every word he spoke, and the soft voice he used.   
  
"And when the tears flowed harder he told me to stop. He slapped me, and I screamed. He told me I was just like my mother, weak. He told me he should have known I was a whore just like her. 'Is that what you want?' he asked me. 'You're just like her. Now you'll see how it feels. I'll make you stop crying, bitch. I'll teach you a lesson you'll never forget.  
  
"I remember the dark look in his eyes as he yelled at me. I remember the way he hissed at me. I screamed and tried to get away, but he held me down, bruising my shoulders. He cursed at my efforts to break free and I finally lay still. I had never heard words so mean sounding, so cruel. I thought something had taken over my father, possessed him.  
  
"But I realized this was how he always was. That was how he had treated my mother, and she had taken it. Until I was seven. Then she left me with him. I don't think she thought he was capable of that cruelty, not to his own daughter.   
  
"He tore my pajamas that night. I asked him if I would get new ones, he ignored me. But he tore more than just my pajamas and I cried. When he was finished he left without a word and I ran to the bathroom. I was only seven, but I knew what he was doing was wrong. I couldn't stop him. And after a while I stopped trying, I stopped wanting to."   
  
I stopped and looked up to see if he was still there. He was, and I could see tears shimmering in his eyes. There was no disgust in them, no hatred. He didn't speak. He knew I needed time. I didn't need to tell him, he just read it off him. And I could read his emotions too. It was a connection we had formed.   
  
"And it continued every night. Sometimes he came home drunk and he would beat me if I didn't have dinner ready. He would scream until I took my clothes off and brought him to bed with the promise of myself. Most of the time he passed out, sometimes he didn't.   
  
"He convinced me that I needed him. And every time I wanted to leave I reminded myself it could have been worse. Though I don't see how looking back on it now. I don't see how I was so naïve and stupid. But I was afraid. Afraid of what he'd do if I left.   
  
"When I was twelve he sold me. He threw me to the sharks. I still lived with him, but now I had to work for him. 'Earn your keep, slut,' he had hissed. And when I protested he slapped me. I was used to the black and blue marks covering my arms, and sometimes my legs. My clients didn't care. I was there to please them, to give them what they wanted, collect my pay and leave. I was a prostitute, just another form of garbage.  
  
"And then he died. He had ruined some woman's career or something and she shot him. I wish I could say I did it. I wish I could have murdered him. Revenge is sweet, I don't care what they tell you. But I didn't kill him. Some other woman did. He didn't pay enough. I can never forgive that woman for killing him. Not because I loved him, not because I missed him, but because I should have done it. I should have been the one with the gun in my hand, laughing as his blood spilled onto our carpet. I should have been the one who had him begging on his knees for his life. It should have been me."  
  
I couldn't look up this time. I was too scared of his reaction. He had understood that it wasn't my fault I was raped. He had understood I didn't want to be abused, so I just gave up. But how could he understand such a death as the one I described? How could he understand the hate that boiled within me? How could he understand my bloodlust?   
  
"Maria," he said. And I was forced to look at him. And in an instant I knew he understood it all. I leaned forward and kissed him. My lips were hungry for him. And he let me slip my arms around him and sink into his embrace. He kissed me back gently. Then he laid me down next to him and kissed my forehead. And I fell asleep to the whisper of his breadth and the warm read light of the alarm clock.  
  
  



	10. Pancakes

The rest of the night there was no dreams. When I woke up Michael was still there, looking at me. I never asked him, but I don't think that he slept at all that night.   
  
"Good afternoon sleepyhead," he said, smiling. I smiled back and looked at the clock. I wondered if my mother was home.   
  
"Is my mom home?" I asked.  
  
"Yeah, she just got here," he answered as she poked her head around the door.   
  
"Morning Maria," she said. There was something wrong with this picture. My mother had just found a boy, a boy who was practically a stranger to me, in my bed. But there she was acting as if it was normality.   
  
Maybe it was because of her past, maybe she figured if she pretended it wasn't happening then it really wasn't. Or maybe she knew the truth. Maybe Michael had explained it all. I hoped that wasn't the reason she wasn't so accepting, I hoped to what ever being had created this wretched earth that he had not told her the real reason he was in my bed. I would rather have her believe anything than have her know the truth.  
  
"Morning Mom," I said back, trying not to sound as confused as I really was.   
  
"Pancakes will be ready when you get your lazy ass out of bed," she called as she walked away.   
  
"Pancakes, at one o'clock in the afternoon?" Michael quipped. I laughed a little.   
  
"Did you tell her?" I questioned. I figured I better just cut to the chase. No use beating around the bush.  
  
"Just what she needed to know," he answered.   
  
"Was she angry?"  
  
"Not really. When she came in to check on you I didn't want her to wake you up so I made sure she was quite. She couldn't really get angry while you were sleeping. I told her that you seemed upset when you took me home yesterday and I asked if you wanted company. I told her we were talking and you fell asleep." I was surprised he had actually taken time to come up with a feasible story. But I guessed that he figured his ass was on the line and he better save it.  
  
"Thanks," I told him pulling myself off the bed. He sat up stiffly. He grimaced as he moved. His muscles were sore from staying in one position all night. Again I felt bad for making him listen to me.  
  
I started looking through drawers for something to wear. "I'm sorry about last night," I said as I threw a pair of sweat pants on the bed. I sounded like I had just given him bad sex or something. "I mean, I didn't mean to fall apart and drown you in my problems. I was surprised you didn't go running after you heard some of the things I told you."   
  
"It takes a lot more than that to scare me away," he said. His voice was serious. I didn't want to have another serious conversation.   
  
"All right," I said looking through my closet now. I found my favorite shirt and threw that on top of the pants. I went to the bathroom and washed my face. "I'm sorry for kissing you too. I know that you have Isabel…"  
  
"It's no big deal," he cut me off. No big deal, well I guess. If you wanted to call the first kiss I gave of my own will not a big deal, go ahead. If you wanted to call the first kiss I put my heart and soul into not a big deal, than I guess love wasn't a big deal. I always thought love was supposed to be the biggest deal of your life. I had been wrong before.   
  
"Oh," I said.   
  
There must have been disappointment in my voice because he quickly added, "It's not like I stopped you."  
  
I smiled a little to myself. "So now it's time you tell me about your life," I said, trying to change the subject.   
  
"There isn't much to tell," he answered as I came into the room and pulled my shirt off. He blushed and looked away. I felt the smile on my lips broaden, but I quickly hid it. Michael coughed a little.   
  
"Come on, you're an alien. You must have some interesting story to tell. And nothing could be worse than what I told you." I walked to the bed and grabbed my shirt. I saw him glance at me but he quickly looked away again. I pulled my shirt over my head and he looked back up.  
  
"Well I came out of the pods when I was seven and was put in a foster home. But I don't' know why they didn't just say that Hank was adopting me. Foster care usually lasts a year or so, maybe a little more. This was a weird system. Any way, Hank was a bastard. He beat his wife until she ran away. Then he beat me until I left too. I left last year, right after things started to get dangerous. I was in danger with him, and in danger with the government. I mean, a guy can only handle so much."  
  
I pulled my pants off and his eyes widened. This time he didn't look away. He pretended to concentrate on my face as he continued.  
  
"After Max healed Liz they noticed things. Everyone knows aliens crashed in Roswell, right. Well Max, Isabel and I knew for sure. Then Liz and Alex did. Our secret was escaping and I was angry. I had been afraid of humans, like you were afraid of men. The only humans I had met had beaten me, excluded me. I was an outsider. So I ran with the reputation. I was known as the rebel, the bad seed.   
  
"And I began to believe it. I'm hotheaded and stubborn and that got me in trouble with Max ever since we had found each other. We fight like children, like brothers. But soon I was getting myself in deeper. I was doing things that could get us in trouble with the law. I was doing things that could let everyone in on our secret. But all I cared about was myself, and our home.   
  
"I think Isabel got with me for this reason. She's there to keep an eye on me and keep me out of trouble. Damn, she's gorgeous, but I don't think of her that way. When we were children she was like a mother to me. She held me when I cried because I had no family like hers. She was the one I went to when I was fighting with Max. She always understood me better than him anyway. But I don't love her like I should, and she doesn't love me."  
  
I was sitting on the end of my bed now, pulling on a pair of socks. He was still watching me intensely. I guess he was waiting for my reaction. But all I could think of was his last statement. I knew it shouldn't make me as happy as it did, but I was elated. I felt bad about his life, I felt bad that his relationship didn't hold meaning, I knew how that felt, but I was happy that he was not tied to her.   
  
"So that's my life. The alien hunters haven't found us yet, they haven't captured us, or cut us open. But every night I'm scared they will figure out our secret, that some man will come and carry us away from here. I'm afraid they will take me from the only people I have cared for in this world or make me watch them die. I'm afraid they will take Liz and Alex from me."  
  
I felt his pain. It ripped through me, letting me forget my own problems. I took his hand in mine and squeezed it. "You're not going anywhere," I whispered. "Not until I'm finished with you at least." I pulled away, embarrassed, and walked towards the kitchen for those pancakes. I hadn't meant to show him my feelings. Hopefully he was like every other male on the face of the planet. Hopefully he hadn't caught on. He was an alien, but he definitely seemed like a born and bred earthling.  
  
My mom was busy in the kitchen and didn't turn around when I walked in. I sat down at the table and drenched my pancakes in syrup. Michael shuffled in and looked down at the stack of food in front of me. He looked to my stomach and then back at the plate.   
  
"If I ate that much I'd be the size of a cow," he stated.  
  
"Thank you Michael Guerin," I said.   
  
"No, I wasn't saying you were a pig, or a cow, or any kind of farm animal," I giggled as he said this, yes, I, Maria De Luca, giggled. I remembered giggling, I used to do a lot as a child. But there wasn't much to giggle about after that. "I was just saying, well I meant…"  
  
"You know you're digging your own grave there," my mother said. "We'll be burying you in our living room if you keep it up."  
  
Michael looked embarrassed. Served him right for calling me an animal. But to save myself from being called cruel I invited him to stay and eat with me. He refused, claiming he had work to do. Although I know he doesn't work on Sundays. I didn't argue though. I was sure he probably had things to do. he had been at my house for almost twelve hours.  
  
"Thank you," I said to him. Michael just looked at me, and shifted feet. His uneasiness made me uncomfortable and I just turned back to eating. I heard the front door click open and shut.   
  
"So what really went on?" my mother asked. I had known she had been too calm about this. Now it was time for the third degree.   
  
"I was upset, he listened," I said. "I thought he already explained. You seemed ok with it then."  
  
"That's because I understand the situation," she said. I knew she was looking at me, I could see her out of the corner of my eye. I chose not to look up.   
  
"What situation is that?" I asked. "I didn't sleep with him."  
  
"Sure looks like it."  
  
"You have no right to judge me. So what if I did sleep with him?" I screamed. "What are you going to do? You're not my mother." I immediately felt sorry for my words. "Mom…I didn't…"  
  
"You're right. I'm not much of a mother," she cried. Her voice was strained, I could feel the tears filling my throat as I heard the evidence of her own. "But dammit, I tried. Your father…"  
  
"Was a bastard," I finished for her.   
  
"I'm sorry," she said. I felt her arms wrap around me. I still couldn't look at her. There were still things between us. I thought it was all right after the first time. But we still had my father between us. He had kept me from her too long though. I had to tell her.   
  
But she knew. I opened my mouth to speak. Only a few words escaped my lips but she quieted me. "I know," she whispered as she stroked my hair. "He told me, he told me…" she cried.   
  
"It's all right. It's going to be all right." I didn't know why I was the one comforting, but I knew it was the right thing to do. I had been the victim, it had been me who was molested. But my mother had known all these years. She had been in the same position as me, powerless, in pain.   
  
"I believe it will," she said. The sentence sounded odd, but it was perfect. That morning I had learned how to love. Michael had been sweet, and I was falling head over heels for the little alien. But it was my mother who gave me strength. She was an amazing woman. To hold a secret like that, fearing for your daughter's life every day, and your own after that. I only had myself to hold onto.   
  
But now it was open. Now I was ready to live life. I was ready to forget the past and make my own future. But first I had to finish my pancakes.  
  
  
----------  
  
The End  
  
(there will be a sequel sometime soon) 


End file.
